


Day 23 - Shot

by fanfictiongreenirises



Series: Whumptober 2020 [23]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Court of Owls, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Hostage Situations, I know I always say it's unedited but this time I'm srs, Shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictiongreenirises/pseuds/fanfictiongreenirises
Summary: Bruce still isn't used to Dick's body regenerating.Alternative Prompt - Shot
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Whumptober 2020 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947217
Comments: 28
Kudos: 238





	Day 23 - Shot

**Author's Note:**

> first disclaimer: I've only read storylines involving the court Ages ago, so most of this is based off of what I remember from fics (that I also read Ages ago lol). 
> 
> second disclaimer: I originally intended for this to be a 5+1 fic but didn't have enough time to do that. I do still kinda intend to continue, but it won't be anytime soon, I don't think
> 
> third disclaimer: I don't own dc aksjdfh

THIS FANFICTION IS HOSTED ON **ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN** , WHERE YOU CAN READ IT FOR **FREE**. IF YOU’RE READING THIS ON A DIFFERENT WEBSITE, IT WAS POSTED THERE **WITHOUT** THE AUTHOR’S CONSENT.

The first time was the worst. They were still working on finding a cure for Dick’s current condition, changing things one at a time because that was the only way it could be done. First, the heartbeat. They essentially brought Dick ‘back to life’.

Bruce had to admit, it was a relief to be able to put his finger to Dick’s pulse point and be able to feel something. So many times, he’d automatically gone to check it and nearly had a heart attack when he couldn’t find it, despite seeing with his own eyes that Dick’s chest was rising and falling.

Then they’d fixed the eye colour. It wasn’t entirely perfect – some things would never return the way they were, and Dick’s enhanced vision was probably one of them. But after a simple operation, the colour had gone back to the vibrant shade of blue it had once been.

Dick’s skin still looked chalky, but because of its dark colour, it wasn’t as ghost-like as it could’ve been. He could still get away with leaving the house, chalking it up to a month or two of no sunlight. 

They hadn’t changed his regenerative abilities. Bruce didn’t really want to reverse that; sue him if he liked that his son was safe from virtually all injuries.

Dick had gotten used to it, too – the Court had instilled in him two things: the knowledge that his life was absolutely replaceable, and that his body was almost entirely invulnerable. Combined with the mindset of the mission being the only thing that mattered, it resulted in Dick throwing himself into things without properly thinking it through like he used to.

The first time it had happened was before Dick was cleared for being out at night. He had been restless at home, so Bruce had reluctantly allowed him to accompany him to the bank.

Bruce had specifically chosen this time because it wasn’t very crowded – Wednesday, around the time most people had to be at work. Despite that, all four lines to the counters had more than five people in them.

Bruce glanced at his watch discreetly every few seconds, knowing that each second being here was another second of Dick deciding that Bruce was taking too long, and going for a walk.

Bruce was finally one person away from being served when the doors to the bank slammed shut, and there was the loud sound of gunfire. The bullets fired upwards, hitting the chandelier that was hanging.

Glass rained down. Bruce instantly dove for the person in front of him, and the two of them slammed into the half wall separating the staff from the customers. He covered his head with his arms, heart pounding in his chest.

Of all days, _today_ had to be the day they hit this particular bank.

“No one move!” one of them shouted, emphasising his words with another round of bullets. “If you want to get out of here alive, you’ll do as I fucking say!”

These people weren’t afraid to use guns, and that thought made Bruce all the more tense. They were going around tying up the hostages – because that’s what he and the others were, now – in a methodical manner. Clearly, this wasn’t their first time on a bank heist.

One of them had kicked the door to the room behind the teller windows. Now, a line of employees emerged, hands raised high. One by one, their hands were duct-taped in front of them and they were roughly shoved down amongst the clusters of hostages.

One of them was places beside Bruce. Bruce tried to give him a sympathetic look, but seeing Bruce’s head turn, the person who’d been leading the hostages out leaned down and peered into Bruce’s eyes.

Bruce held his breath, memorising as many things as he could even their face was mostly covered with a balaclava.

“No funny business,” she hissed, and then, just as Bruce thought she was about to withdraw, she delivered a firm punch to his face.

Bruce’s head hit the thin wall behind him, and he briefly saw stars.

It was partly at that moment when Bruce was still reeling from the blow that several things occurred.

Sirens started up from somewhere along the street, prompting their captors to begin cursing and shouting. One of them – the trigger happy one – started waving his gun around at the staff, which, being scattered amongst the customers, meant that he was just pointing the gun absolutely everywhere.

He was jittery and his finger was twitching, and Bruce hated that combination just as much as he feared it.

That was when a dark blur dropped from the second floor down into the centre of the room. There was a moment of silence as everyone _stared_ , which was when the newcomer began methodically working through the room to eliminate all the thugs.

This time, Bruce thumped his head against the wall in frustration. Frustration that this was happening today, when he was so ill-prepared to deal with it, being a civilian inside the bank and all; and frustration at the fact that _Dick_ , who wasn’t even supposed to be here, who hadn’t been cleared for _patrol_ yet, was now taking care of bank robbers alone.

“Stop!” the man with the firearm screamed. Frankly, Bruce thought he sounded rather insane. “I’m warning you! _Stop_. Or I shoot!”

Dick wasn’t paying attention to the gun, but at the flash of the man’s hand towards one of the civilians, he was running faster than a normal human could run, almost a blur as he raced from one end of the open room to the other. Dick threw himself in the direction of the customer the man had the gun pointed at, sliding in front just in time to be absolutely brush fired in the chest.

The hostages all around him moved away the moment the man began shooting, and no one did anything to stop them, too scared of incurring his wrath themselves.

The blood had started roaring in Bruce’s ears from the second Dick had thrown himself in front of them. He could hear his harsh breaths as he tried desperately to watch for any signs of life. He knew – of course he knew, logically – that Dick’s regenerative modifications were still intact. They’d tested it in the Cave.

But it was different seeing it like this, when it wasn’t just a simple prick to the finger or a methodical, shallow cut to the forearm. This… no one could survive this. Dick’s torso was absolutely riddled with holes.

Bruce’s fingers were flat against the ground, nails scratching against the hardwood floor. His eyes were fixated on Dick’s still figure, willing it to heal, to—

Dick’s hand twitched, then the whole arm, and then flipped over with a groan. Bruce knew that anything in Dick’s body that wasn’t meant to be there would just be pushed out, and he saw it now with his own eyes as bullets clattered to the ground.

There was an absolute lake of blood beneath him, seeping through his dark clothes and into the hardwood floor. Bruce distantly thought about the amount of cleaning agents they were going to need to get something like that out.

The man was backing away, gun still pointed towards Dick. “What…what the hell are you?” He was still shouting, but his voice had a tremble in it that there wasn’t before.

Dick slowly stood up. Bruce was glad to see that he’d taken the time to cover his face with something before dropping in – there was a scrap of fabric covering the bottom part of his face, with only his eyes exposed.

The fight was over the moment Dick stood up. Now that there were no hostages behind him, he dodged the bullets that he could be bothered to dodge, advancing on the man with the same speed he’d shown before.

Dick didn’t even bother with disarming him, performing a kick to the backs of his kneecaps with his ankles. The man dropped down immediately, falling backwards and crawling towards the line of hostages.

He didn’t reach them. Dick knocked him out with a single but effective punch.

That was when Bruce went to scramble to his feet, but Dick, as though sensing this, turned and gave him a look, gone in an instant but effective in keeping Bruce where he was. It wouldn’t do for people to connect him or his family with him, not after such a dramatic save.

Dick undid the ties on one of the staff members, and then disappeared, leaving them to deal with tedious matters like police statements and paramedics on scene.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!!!


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